


Nightshade on My Tongue (I can't help but love)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Life Stages of Love and Roses [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Coming of Age, Dork Lovers Server Challenge (Queen Band), Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, Lack of Communication, Language of Flowers, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peer Pressure, Polyamory Negotiations, Romantic Friendship, secret keeping, slightly unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 14:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Brian tries hard to not fall in love with people he can hurt.





	Nightshade on My Tongue (I can't help but love)

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, we're still in a flower mood. At least for server challenges. Uh, this one is a little less world building and more of a look into the characters. There should be four parts to this. One for each. We'll see. Anyway, enjoy, I'll talk more in the endnotes.  
> There's a lot of Page Breaks. Be aware.  
> *Ask To Tag

Brian’s wrist flower appears days after his second birthday. At least that’s what his mother tells him. She says she was so happy for him because it was the first flower that wasn’t isolating on him. He doesn’t understand why she was so worried about his flowers.

The white almond flower is solitary for thirteen years, the willow on his breast has already been joined by heather hiding under his armpit. He wakes up one morning with tight boxers and an itchy feeling on his wrist. When he scratches it, it stings. Upon examination, he sees the startling shade of purple and he clamps his hand over it.

Too vibrant to be a bruise. A large carnation nearly overtakes the first flower.

It isn’t hard to convince his parents that he’s ill and needs to stay home for the day. Hiding the new flower seems pointless and more damning than if he were opening about it. A bandage on the wrist of a despondent thirteen-year-old, it isn’t going to get ignored. When what’s under it is uncovered, well. He decides that he isn’t going to be obvious about it.

His mother just purses her lips when he shows her and his father shrugs. The flowers are only a thing of appearance to his mother and his father goes on with his life as they don’t matter.

Whispers don’t take long to form. Girls in his year start flirting with other boys, not that he was popular per se but popular enough. Apparently not hiding it makes him proud of it. He doesn’t get where that logic comes from. Instead, he buries himself in books about the cosmos and learning his Old Lady. To some extent, it’s hard to ignore the growing relationships around him. He wonders what he’s missing out on.

Eventually, he learns after too many glasses of stolen wine and a Hollies album.

* * *

Seventeen also brings the mocking ivy, he reasons that if the person loves him then maybe they’ll overlook the flower on his wrist.

The girl doesn’t stay, and he doesn’t have a relationship that lasts longer than five months after that.

* * *

The whispers mostly stop when he enters university. He thinks it’s the anonymity of the crowd. Tim thinks that the flower will help bring in more female fans. A chance to sleep with the guitarist of a semi-popular band.

_“That’s not going to happen.”_

_“Maybe not, but if they think it could, then there’s a point to showing up.”_

He wants to argue with Tim’s logic but finds there’s not really a point when they’re a rock band without a drummer and he’s got a paper due on ‘the variations of particle frequencies.’ Tim seems happy enough with his victory and holds up a mock-up of their wanted poster.

_“Ginger Baker?”_

_“Why not? Go big, and all that.”_

Brian shrugs and goes back to his books.

* * *

It only takes a few weeks before Roger Taylor waltzes into his life with a too pretty smile. Brian has always admired pretty things, and a part of him hopes that it’s just how his flower is manifesting. He isn’t surprised to see the Spanish jasmine (more so the Freesia, how does _that_ work?) since Roger has this effortless beauty about him. Everything about Roger is made better (to Brian, at least) because he seems to know how attractive he is.

Then Roger kneels to tune the drums and Brian falls a little in love.

* * *

The flirting becomes a part of their dynamic. Tim swears that they get on like a couple married fifty years, so at first, it’s mostly to urge an eye-roll from Tim.

Then the looks turn heated under the siren call of whatever cheap whiskey they’ve managed to scrounge up. Brian ignores it as best as he can because the last thing he wants to do is start something with a band member when he’s evidentially fated to mess up in relationships. He gets his fun in the groupies that Tim predicted and so does Roger.

When the looks don’t go away, and he starts seeing them in Roger when he’s sober (and worse they’re acting domestic) he tries to figure out _why._ Brian has never been one to avoid a question, they make his brain itch in ways that keep him up at night until he finds an answer. Most of the time he doesn’t like the answer he finds.

There has to be a reason Roger is acting like he’s in love.

Tim calls him one morning to tell him that he’s too ill to make it to practice (there’s giggling in the background that’s way too high pitched to be one of Tim’s drinking buddies). Roger is perpetually early, so Brian knows he’s going to have to make the trek anyway. It takes a lot of convincing from the logical part in his mind to not read this as a fated conclusion.

Roger eyes him when he walks into the room, sans guitar.

“Trying to woo the crowd by learning air guitar, mate?”

“Tim’s ill.”

“Ill or ‘ill’?”

Brian shrugs, “I’ll let you make your own conclusions.”

They keep each other’s gaze. Brian’s never been shy about this sort of thing, the few times his partners have shrugged off his flowers, but this is a little different. This is Roger Taylor with all his beauty and a trusting freesia.

Roger yanks him down by his shirt and their lips meet with the same intensity of alcohol-driven lust, but no horrible aftertaste. Brian pulls away from air and finds that he wants this as badly as he wants this band to go somewhere.

“If we do this are we going to be a thing?”

“Do we have to be?”

The truthful answer is Brian would at least like a label to help keep his life sorted, but he knows that Roger will just move onto someone who matches what his current wants in life are. Brian bites his lip and decides that if this isn’t a _thing_ then his flower doesn’t come into play then.

“No.”

He’s still a little in love with Roger Taylor.

* * *

By the time they’re one-hundred fifty-three days into this, Brian hasn’t been counting but numbers stick in his head anyway, he’s decided that the way Roger’s brows scrunch up seconds before he wakes is one of his favorite PG faces. He also realizes at that same one-hundred and fifty-third day that’s he’s more than a little in love with Roger.

They’re going to have to talk.

* * *

One-hundred and seventy days into this thing. They do talk.

Brian’s been dodging Roger’s looks all night. The show was one of their better ones, so it wouldn’t be impossible for him to find a groupie to invite to his bed for the night, but the thought makes him feel a little guilty. Not that it’s stopped him before, but it does make him pause.

Roger catches his wrist. He could fight it, say he’s not in the mood, but he is so he doesn’t. They don’t talk the entire way back to Roger’s flat, only a murmured Fred isn’t going to be home tonight. There’s not much he can say to that other than a quiet okay.

Hopefully, Tim doesn’t notice that they’ve left at the same time.

He is sure that the door is louder than it has any right to be. Roger, strangely doesn’t take him to the couch or kitchen but stands in front of him with his arms crossed. Brian thinks it’s a little unfair that someone can look that good angry and drunk and sweaty. Wisely he doesn’t voice this.

“We said this wasn’t a thing.”

Brian frowns.

“We said we wouldn’t make it a thing.”

He nods.

“So why do I want to make this a thing?”

Brian tilts his head, “am I supposed to answer that?”

Roger throws his arms up in the air, “I think you want to make this a thing too.”

Brian chews on the answer for a minute, “you aren’t wrong.”

It feels like they know where they stand less now that they both know what they want.

They both sleep alone that night.

* * *

“I have two rules,” Roger says.

Brian jumps, wondering when Roger woke up. He sets his notes and textbook on the end table moments before Roger demands his attention by straddling his lap.

“Two rules for this,” Roger repeats once he’s securely perched.

“Okay?”

They hadn’t really spoken about that night since, and just continued business as usual. Roger finding someone after every show (be it Brian or other) and Brian dabbling around with a partner who doesn’t care to know his name (or Roger).

“It’s only cheating if you love them.”

Brian frowns, “what?”

“The first rule,” Roger clarifies, “infidelity will only be counted if there are romantic feelings with said partner not of the relationship if you want fancy terms.”

“What?”

Roger rolls his eyes, “I’m saying I like how this is right now, but I couldn’t stand it if you went home with someone you loved that wasn’t me.”

Brian blinks. He thought that Roger was unaware of his feelings, but he isn’t too surprised that Roger knows. It’s not like he was hiding them. The surprise is really that Roger loves him.

“Maybe we should lower the number of partners we have, but,” Roger shrugs.

“And the second?”

“Do you agree to the first?”

“I have to agree to both?”

Roger’s narrows his eyes.

Brian lifts his hands up from Roger’s waist, “I like having all the data, but the first is acceptable.”

“Thought so,” Roger pulls his hands back down.

Brian rubs circles with his thumbs on the exposed skin. He waits for the sulky tension to fade from the lines of Roger’s face, then he makes a prompting noise at the back of his throat.

“Number two, wait these might count more as conditions,” Roger hum thoughtfully, “oh well. But for one night a month, you’re mine. I’m yours. No one else, nothing else. Pending emergencies of course.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Brian finds that at day two-hundred and six that he hadn’t gone home with anyone else. He knows Roger hasn’t either. It’s strange, now that he has permission, he doesn’t want anyone else.

Until he meets Chrissie and loves her for a few months. He doesn’t love her in a way that’s fair to her. She’s warm and lovely, and maybe if he’d met her first, they could be something. Then he thinks about Roger and feels heavy with guilt.

Roger never finds out and that makes him feel worse.

* * *

Freddie is, well firstly he’s Freddie, but mostly he’s everything. A voice that makes people pay attention and feel things they might not want to confront. It’s scarily easy how quickly Brian falls in love. Roger seems immune to it, or at the very least more able to ignore it since they are flat mates.

He’s _known_ about Freddie since Roger joined the band, but he’s only getting the full force of it now that Tim is always out with one friend or another. Despite his heather-lined ribs saying otherwise, Brian likes being around people.

The reason he ends up alone frequently is that people can’t keep up with his mind or he falls behind because he’s still trying to figure out what to feel. Freddie matches his mind about music with stunning ease and Roger may fly though emotions but he doesn’t make Brian match his pace while keeping Brian from dwelling.

It’s not hard to remain in love with them. It is harder to keep from betraying Roger and following Freddie to bed when the invitation is so clear. He wouldn’t be able to stop it before it got too far. Not like he did with Chrissie.

* * *

_“I’m an adult,”_ Roger tells Tim once before they even kissed.

_“I don’t care, really, but you can’t let whatever it is affect the band -”_

_“How caring.”_

_“It’s all he has.”_

* * *

“Do you think Fred would be up for this?”

Roger raises his head, nearly asleep, “huh?”

“As we have, anyone except you can’t love them.”

“Hm. Maybe. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“’kay.”

Brian wakes up with a freesia flower and he feels sick with the guilt. He doesn’t leave his flat for a week. He’ll explain it away as an illness. Roger will see the flower and pull him into a hug.

It’s a _bad_ idea to stay. Brian can’t bring himself to leave.

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, a bouquet takes over his stomach. Zinnas of different colors. Brian laughs bitterly when he sees the white and magenta tangle together, if anything he’s proven to himself that he’s anything but _good_ and his affection is as fleeting at the wind.

At least the yellow tells him the truth. He’s always going to remember how he betrayed Roger’s trust and love. Even if the freesia is a more apparent reminder.

* * *

“We’ve got an opening for a singer,” Roger announces after eating half a loaf worth of toast.

“Are you asking me?” Freddie sounds casual.

If Brian didn’t know that friend wouldn’t spend the energy, he would almost think that Freddie was being the ill-timed offer from Humpy Bong. He still thinks it’s odd that Freddie seemed one-hundred percent certain that Smile would need a new singer.

“You’re the only complaining we aren’t playing with you.”

“You’d have to be absolutely daft to miss the potential.”

Roger gives him a curiously knowing look.

“So,” Freddie leans forward, “I accept.”  
“Now we need a bassist,” Brian says mostly into his water, his brain having fought out of the hangover haze.

Why had he let Roger talk him into getting so drunk?

“And we have to make many changes to the wardrobe and setlist.”

Ah, right. Tim left.

“One more thing–“ Roger stops, “never mind, we can talk about that later.”

* * *

Three-hundred days even Roger finally says what he meant to in the kitchen the day Freddie joined. At least Brian thinks that this is what he was going to say. It might’ve been a good idea to talk about this before.

He remembers Chrissie and it silences his protests.

“Brian and I –”

“Are shagging,” Freddie says.

Brian chokes on his wine but thankfully manages to avoid spilling it on his white shirt.

“Yeees,” Roger says slowly, “but we also had a question.

“Judging by the sounds at night, you’re doing more than enough.”

Brian chokes again and this time he isn’t so lucky. Although the wine does blend in with the rug. Maybe now he can convince Freddie to get a new one. It’s not comfortable to sleep on at all, which he does when he and Roger feel more like being friends than lovers. Roger laughs at him.

“Thanks, but you see Brian and I have a… nontraditional relationship. We love each other,” Roger glances at him.

“But we can sleep with other people, so long as we don’t love them.”

“So only infidelity of the heart?”

Freddie sounds curious.

“Mm.”  
“Why tell me? It’s working for you.”

Roger leans back and folds his hands together, “we want to know if you’d be interested in joining.”

“Is this a confession? I was expecting more candlelight and wine.”

Brian dramatically pours Freddie a glass and hands it to him. He ignores the burn on his back signaling another flower (later he’ll bite his fist when he twists to see the red columbine because he _knows_ he'll mess this up). He also ignores how wrong this could go, it could ruin everything. Maybe he should change his shirt or put the vest back on to cover the stain?

Freddie snorts, “well.”

There’s a moment where Brian isn’t sure if he wants to shake the answer out of Freddie or bolt and hide in the school’s observatory until Roger drags him out to tell him the answer. Roger wraps his legs around one of Brian’s and gives him a warning look.

“Okay.”

And that was that. It felt really nice to love Freddie without feeling guilty.

* * *

“There’s a lanky kid outside. Says he wants to audition?” Their last guy says on his way out.

Roger sighs, “but we were done!”  
The guy shrugs. Brian is pretty sure the guy knows he’s not a good fit (considering Brian can’t even remember his name). He had grimaced the second he spotted Freddie and Roger. Brian glances at the pair.

“No one else –”

“They all sucked,” Freddie declares the second the guy leaves the room.

Brian winces, some _could_ play but they didn’t have the personality or work ethic they needed. Roger pushes up from the table.

“I’ll get him.”

Freddie grabs a random page of music from the folder, “maybe it’s fate.”

“Or he’s got a bad sense of timing.”

Roger returns with the as described “lanky kid” a few moments later. Brian watches him clutch nervously at his case. The kid might be twenty-one, but even that seems hopeful. Nervous gray eyes dart to each of them. He offers a hopefully encouraging smile.

“Oy, let’s hear him. I’m missing dinner with Shannon for this.”

He recalls the name. Something about her knowing a guy that could get them a gig at the new club near campus.

“Is Shannon the red-head?”

Brian rolls his eyes at Freddie’s teasing smile, “no, Shannon is the brunette from his biology class.”

He internally winces, because has no right to pay that much attention to the partners Roger chooses, “going to steal her notes, Rog?”

“As if. She offered to pay for dinner.”

Brian knows he shouldn’t be so touchy. Freddie isn’t and Roger rarely plans an encounter. He’s pretty sure it’s still guilt from Chrissie because he’s stopped any encounters that weren’t Freddie and Roger.

“You’re worth dinner  _and_ dessert at least,” Freddie laughs.

As Roger jumps on Freddie the tension vanishes. Brian lets out a quiet sigh and lets them wrestle.

“You were in such a hurry before.”

He steps out of the way as Freddie and Roger’s tussle becomes mobile. The poor kid looks overwhelmed, which Brian relates too and he _lives_ with them. Freddie jumps up once Roger is done rapidly tapping the

“Okay, sorry about that dear,” Fred smiles, “what’s your name?”

“John Richard Deacon,” he winces.

For the third time (or eightieth, but the third time he felt like it matters) in his life, Brian falls in love at first sight.

**Author's Note:**

> *Brian had permission to sleep with Roger, but he stayed in the living room after John joined to make him feel more comfortable.  
> So anyway, a different so of dynamic to the relationship than what John got to see very briefly. It will be explored more a little later on with all four of them. But yea, leave your thoughts and comments below! (Now for Flower Meanings that were mentioned!)
> 
> Meanings  
> Spanish Jasmine - Sensuality  
> Freesia - Innocence, Trust, Friendship  
> Willow - Sadness  
> Heather (lavender) - Solitude, Admiration  
> Ivy (white buds) - Anxious to Please, Affection  
> Almond Blossom - Hope  
> Carnation (purple) - Capriciousness  
> Zinnia (white) - Goodness  
> Zinnia (magenta) - Lasting Affection  
> Zinnia (yellow) - Daily Remembrance  
> Columbine (red) - Anxious


End file.
